Rebirth: Slice-of-life Cultivation Chapter 1577 - 863: Inheritance (Part 2)

Yao Yiyao gazed down at the sticky plump cat clinging to her, pausing for a moment: "It’s pretty exhausting..."

Thirty minutes passed, and the dinner table turned into a lively arena for several elderly gentlemen.

Yao Haikuo bragged loudly: "This morning, I was gaming at Brother Yang’s countryside resort—you know King of Fighters 97? I completely owned the scene there!"

Lou Rui sneered dismissively: "With your level, you dominated? I could take you down three times over!"

"Hey, if you doubt me, let’s settle it with a round at the resort after we eat?" Yao Haikuo challenged.

"You’re on!" Lou Rui shot back without hesitation.

Overhearing this exchange, Yao Yiyao couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly. She recalled her father mentioning how Uncle Lou served as the Executive Deputy Director of Public Security in Yuzhou—a high-ranking deputy official—yet he oddly enjoyed gaming like that.

Still, it highlighted the strength of their old bonds.

In the past, when the Wu Brothers destroyed her family’s ancestral grave, her mother urged her father to ask Uncle Lou for aid, but he turned it down since the Wu Brothers were backed by Uncle Lou’s direct boss.

'Dad cherishes these friendships so deeply; perhaps he truly intends to set them up...' Yao Yiyao fretted.

Yao Haikuo lifted his cup: "Back in those days, Little Guan joined our gaming sessions sometimes, but he always skipped playing. I tossed him two Game Coins anyway, and he got wiped out right at the start—hahaha!"

At this, Huang Guan grinned and raised his own glass: "I’m no good at it, Mr. Yao—toast to you!"

With that remark, Yao Haikuo’s face shifted noticeably, as Lou Rui subtly shook his head.

After a few more rounds of toasts, the meal wrapped up, and Huang Guan prepared to head out. Spotting the gift on the floor—Wuliangye, no less, a lavish present considering Huang Guan’s modest family finances—Yao Haikuo gestured toward it: "Xiao Guan, grab your things and go."

Huang Guan replied straightforwardly: "No way, you used to share snacks with me back in school—I’ve never forgotten that kindness!"

Yao Haikuo waved it off casually: "Those days, my folks stocked up on so much stuff at home, I couldn’t polish it all off alone, so sharing kept it from going to waste! It wasn’t any big deal!"

After some back-and-forth insisting, Huang Guan failed to leave the gift behind, so he carried it away with him.

Throughout the whole gathering, Yao Yiyao caught not a whisper about any matchmaking.

On the ride home, sharp gusts of cold wind whipped around. As Huang Guan sped along on his motorcycle, he let out a heavy sigh: "Zhuzi, your Uncle Yao was always bringing me tasty treats during school—I hated to devour them right there, so I’d stash them away and save them for your little aunt at home..."

"Little aunt..." Huang Yuzhu pondered. From what he remembered, his little aunt had shone brightly in her studies since childhood, earned a spot in university, pursued further education overseas, and eventually settled abroad, cutting ties for years now—she lived in a whole different realm from them.

His father had poured the finest opportunities into his little aunt from the start, only for it to end like this.

Huang Guan’s thoughts drifted to his sister as a child, and he grew quiet, eventually murmuring: "Zhuzi, once you make it big, look after Uncle Yao’s family properly."

Huang Yuzhu flashed a straightforward grin: "You bet."

At the crossroads, Huang Guan let his son off and clutched the two bottles of Wuliangye, hoping to hand them back somehow.

Huang Yuzhu trudged toward home and spotted his little sister waiting by the iron gate.

Beyond the gate lay the shabby, worn-out district, while across from it stood a fresh housing complex complete with a kids’ playground, where children in crisp outfits dashed about, igniting fireworks and firecrackers in glee.

His little sister was a top student, just like his father claimed—matching his aunt’s brilliance.

"Little sister!" Huang Yuzhu called out.

The young girl spun around: "Brother Zhuzi."

Huang Yuzhu checked his pockets and nodded firmly: "Come on, I’ll treat you to some shopping!"

The girl’s face brightened with thrill: "For real, brother?"

Their household had always been tight with money, pinching every penny.

"Totally." Huang Yuzhu strode ahead, leading her.

Reaching the shop, Huang Yuzhu eyed the sparkling assortment of trinkets and gestured grandly: "Grab anything that catches your eye—brother’s got the bill!"

Her eyes sparkled as she selected a tiny pack of Fairy Wands: "This’ll do, brother."

Seeing that, Huang Yuzhu set the small box aside and declared resolutely: "We’re not getting that one!"

His sister’s face fell—what had she done wrong?

Why build up her excitement just to dash it?

The instant after, Huang Yuzhu snatched up the large pack of fairy sticks: "We’ll take this big version instead."

The little girl nearly leaped for joy: "Yes, brother!"

Gazing at his sister’s beaming face, Huang Yuzhu mirrored it with his own innocent smile.

...

River dam.

Once Mr. Qian’s dinner ended in chaos with the table flipped, no food remained, and his invited pals slipped away gradually.

Mr. Qian found himself alone.

Yet the day’s deep shame burned fiercely; in his mental list of foes, Dongdong topped it, Ba Wang came next, and only after that did Jiang Ning and the rest rank.

The score to settle with Dongdong would have to wait, but his beef with Ba Wang demanded immediate payback!

Mr. Qian geared up for a bout of scheming. Clearing the table, he fetched couplet paper from inside, grabbed a brush and ink, and dove into crafting New Year’s couplets.

As the river dam’s prime literary talent, Mr. Qian handled Spring Festival couplets for every home each year.

Butcher Zhang stirred from his doze and caught sight of Mr. Qian at work, so he hauled over a stool to observe: "Old Qian, you’re starting late this season!"

Mr. Qian stayed silent, gripping the brush steadily as he inscribed: [Brush strokes like dragons and snakes in wind and rain, poems are splendid and illuminate the universe]

The horizontal scroll: Overflowing talent

Butcher Zhang burst into applause: "Excellent, excellent, excellent—what overflowing talent indeed!"

Staring at the fluid, flawless script on the crimson sheet, he was utterly captivated!

Butcher Zhang marveled: "Man, this calligraphy is stunning—even a rough guy like me loves it!"

Mr. Qian, the expert, smirked with pride.

Butcher Zhang fidgeted eagerly: "Old Qian, how about we talk—mind if I try a few strokes?"

Mr. Qian glanced sideways at him; this burly butcher was obviously unpolished, yet he fancied himself artistic—it was pure pretension.

Not wanting to squander his supplies, Mr. Qian turned him down: "You won’t pick it up."

Butcher Zhang bristled at the rejection: "Why not? Check out my pig-killing precision; if I dive in now, I’ll outdo you for sure!"

Mr. Qian scoffed: "If you’d shown that knack sooner, you’d never have stooped to butchering hogs."

Earlier chats with old buddies included one from a vocational school, who noted how some students there were hardworking, focused in lectures, and diligent with notes. Mr. Qian had dismissed it; so eager to learn, and still landed in vocational training?

Butcher Zhang sensed the jab and grumbled inwardly, but as a plainspoken fellow, he harbored an odd respect for the learned, leaving him tongue-tied for a retort.

A gleam sparked in Mr. Qian’s eyes: "That said, I admire your enthusiasm—the Sage taught that learning transcends social barriers."

"Fine, give it a shot!"

Butcher Zhang beamed with delight; at last, he’d bask in some scholarly vibes today.

Snatching the brush, he scrawled hastily, producing what looked like monstrous doodles.

Even he cringed at his own mess.

But to his surprise, Mr. Qian praised it: "Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful—Brother Zhang, who knew you had such a unique flair!"

Butcher Zhang blinked in confusion: "Huh?"

Mr. Qian strolled around, mumbling: "It’s like, it’s like—uncannily similar!"

Butcher Zhang frowned: "Similar to what? Spit it out!"

Mr. Qian locked eyes with him abruptly: "Your script truly echoes that of another—Zheng Banqiao, a renowned calligrapher from antiquity, one of the Yangzhou Eight Eccentrics!"

Butcher Zhang straightened up, hanging on every word.

Mr. Qian spun a tale freely: "Zheng Banqiao’s style mirrors yours closely; legend has it he struggled to grasp basics, even practicing gestures in his dreams!"

"He adored dog meat; when his pet passed, in sorrow he consumed it while weeping. Afterward, seizing the brush for a dog’s elegy, he birthed his signature approach and rose to mastery!"

Mr. Qian spun the yarn smoothly, face straight as ever.

Butcher Zhang gaped in awe: "No kidding?"

Mr. Qian skipped a reply, his gaze drifting unwittingly to the large wolfhound lounging in the sunlight by the entrance.

Butcher Zhang traced the look and also spotted Ba Wang.

Ba Wang had been relaxed until a sudden shiver ran through him.